Night of the Soul: Second Chance
by WolftenDragon
Summary: The memory of Connor's death at Stradford Tower had snaked it's way back into Hank's mind one lonely night. The grizzled cop never fully recovered from the traumatic event, as it had reopened a serious scar into his past. Unable to handle the mixture of horrible memories, Hank hits rock bottom, and attempts to end his own life once again...(CW: Suicide attempt/anxiety/angst)
1. A Sound of Thunder

**A/N: **This is my first fanfic since 2014! It's been a while! I've long since fallen down the DBH fandom hole and have had this story bouncing around in my head for about a month! Enjoy!

* * *

***Hank Anderson***

**~January 10th, 2039 - 1:48 AM~**

The house was silent, save for the small clink of half melted ice hitting the bottom of a bourbon glass, the slight buzzing of the light bulb that hung over the kitchen table. The TV was on, but some pointless infomercial graced the screen, due to it being so late at night. The grizzled lieutenant paid no attention, it's sound seemed far away, muffled almost, as his mind was clouded by the booze that overtook it. It had been a while since he had gotten this hammered, but this night he didn't care, as he held the assumption that he wouldn't be alive much longer. An almost empty bottle of Jack Daniel's sat upon the table to his left, the now polished off glass held listlessly in his hand. The photo of Cole laid down on the table in front of him, and to his right, his personal weapon, a .357 revolver. Hank thought to himself, it's been a while since he's done...this. He let his hand wander over to the gun, his fingers brushing the cold metal of the gun barrel. If Connor were home to see this, he would without a doubt be upset, betrayed, angry…

It had been a few months since the revolution, androids of every kind had since gained autonomy. While many laws had been passed, a few others had yet to make it through. One such was the right to independently own properties. As such Connor had been living with Hank since the day the demonstration happened, and his younger brother Nines had resided with Gavin, but knowing the type of relationship the human and android now shared, it was clear that Nines would have no intentions of ever leaving. Androids had gained the right to earn their own income from whatever jobs they have, regardless of whether it was a job they were previously programmed to perform. Connor genuinely loved his job as a detective, and opted to stay at the DPD, remaining Hank's partner, and getting to work alongside Nines.

Despite his broken mental state, Hank let a small chuckle escape his throat. Nines, such an interesting character. It turns out Cyberlife had been developing the RK900 prototype during Connor's deployment to the DPD. The new and improved 'Connor' series was to be released while Connor himself was gonna be decommissioned _if _he had completed his mission, but Connor had made the right choice, becoming a deviant and helping Markus succeed in the demonstration, thus Cyberlife was no longer able to control him, even after attempting to override his programming during Markus's speech. Cyberlife had the first ever RK900 already assembled and ready for deployment, and it was revealed that the State Department had previously ordered 200,000 additional RK units, but since the demonstration these plans were more or less permanently scrapped. Connor had discovered his more advanced doppelganger while freeing the other androids at the Cyberlife tower and took it upon himself to awake and free him. Nines was truly one of a kind, like Markus, being the only RK900 to be released, to be free, and alive like his brother.

Connor and Hank had grown close, to the point where Hank had officially 'adopted' Connor as his son. Connor himself was hesitant on the new found relationship, feeling as if he was replacing Cole entirely. Hank had reassured him a thousand times over that that wasn't the case. Since then Connor seems to have embraced this newfound feeling of parental love, giving and receiving the affection Hank gave him, well, what Hank perceived as affection. The grizzled cop admitted that affection of any kind has not been his strong suit, not since Cole's death all those years ago. He had been working to get better at it, as was Connor. The android, in his own awkward and quirky way was also weird with showing affection, but unlike Hank was eager to learn and get better. Now Nines, despite being younger, had caught onto emotions and affections far faster than Connor. His more advanced processors allowed him to do such, and despite having a very rocky start at the DPD (no thanks to Gavin) had developed a very solid personality of his own, with his own quirks and habits. Gavin has since benefited greatly from being with Nines, despite still being quite the asshole, he had someone in his life to keep him well grounded, and Hank is highly grateful for that.

Well _was _grateful. It wouldn't matter in the next 5 minutes. Hank sighed heavily, looking back over at Cole's picture. His features heavy with grief, guilt and hopelessness. Since Connor had entered his life, Connor took it upon himself to try and help Hank improve his mental and physical wellbeing, breaking old destructive habits, including eating better and recovering from years of hard alcoholism. Somehow Connor had also convinced him to go on antidepressants, to help cope with the suicidal tendencies he had been suffering with. Hank put his head in his hands, leaning back in his chair. He sighed deeply, the pang of guilt in his heart growing ever stronger. Hank was a lot of things, an asshole and a smartass, but he always spoke his mind, and was almost always honest. He assumed Connor didn't know, but Hank had gone off his meds. He had been off them for a few weeks already, claiming that he was taking them as intended. He had a feeling Connor could easily scan him, analyzing his body and sensing the instabilities, but Connor had not mentioned anything, giving no indication that he knew.

Hank heaved another drunken sigh. He felt so bad, so so bad. He had been lying to Connor, giving the android the false hope that he had been getting better, that he had been taking the pills when in reality he had been hiding them in the trash. Connor expressed happiness and gratefulness for Hank's progress, seeing his 'father' improving, despite the several setbacks they had faced beforehand. Hank absolutely refused to talk to a therapist, he was never good with words, so he opted to just popping a pill every day. Hank let his hands fall back on the table, he grabbed the whisky bottle, and poured what was left of the liquid into the glass, quickly swigging it down. The burn of it had long since disappeared. He no longer felt it, as he had been nursing the bottle for the past hour or so. The revolver had one bullet in it but unlike last time Hank wasn't playing roulette. He swallowed the whiskey, letting out a long, ragged breath. His vision was spinning, his mind muddled. The TV might as well had been off, cuz he no longer heard it.

"T-TV…..Oooooffffff…" Hank slurred out.

From his seat he saw the TV turned off, the screen going black. All the while, Sumo had been in the backyard. Connor had taken it upon himself to install a small kennel in the back, along with a dog door, that frankly took up half of the backdoor in the kitchen due to the dog's size. This allowed Sumo outside time when Connor and Hank were away at work, he could go outside and do his business, get some fresh air and get some exercise. The Bernard was currently outside, enjoying the cool crisp air. It wasn't as snowy as people thought it would be, a slight dusting at best, thus the dog could move around freely and didn't track snow into the house. Hank briefly glanced at the back door, making sure the dog wasn't due to come lumbering back in any time soon. The last thing he wanted was a distraction, from anyone. Nobody, neither human, android, or animal.

Connor himself was still at the DPD. He was working late to process some last minute paperwork. Hank had left early that day, claiming that he was feeling 'unwell', not that that was a lie per say. Fowler, while obviously unimpressed, let him go, clearly used to this kind of routine. Connor said he would stay, getting both his and Hank's work done in the meantime. It was now past 2 AM, and Connor was still due to come home. Again, it wouldn't matter. Hank leaned back again, this time picking up the revolver in his now shaking hand. His broken mind spinning, going a million miles an hour. His heart beating rapidly. He briefly looked back at the events that lead to this very moment. A specific, and _very _painful memory flashed through his head, an event that was as painful as the night Cole died. A traumatic event, that had pushed Hank over the edge this very night since being off his meds…..

* * *

**~November 8th, 2038 - 3:45 PM~**

***Stradford Tower***

Hank stood idly by, his arms crossed. A disgruntled expression on his face. Getting a snarky earful from that sorry FBI sod Perkins put him in a bad mood. Connor had gone to the kitchen to interrogate the broadcast operator androids, determined to find out which one was a deviant. They had already investigated the roof, finding no trace of any of the deviants that had previously infiltrated the tower to deliver their message to humanity. Hank looked around the broadcast room, glancing upon the dozens of screens line the wall in front of him. He ran Markus's message through his mind again, thinking about what was said. A better future for humans _and_ androids. Alive, living as one, together, in peace. Hank pondered on that. Maybe he was wrong, maybe androids weren't as bad as he thought, maybe…..just maybe. His thoughts wandered to Connor.

The detective unit was quite a strange one, with his weird quirks, habits, and ways of speaking. Regardless of whether Cyberlife had programmed him to be as such, the way Connor acted was quite genuine. The way he stimmed with his signature coin didn't feel like something Cyberlife had pre-programmed into him. It felt real, and Connor's initial comment on how he liked dogs also felt as such. Why would Cyberlife program a police unit to like dogs? It made no sense, and Hank couldn't quite wrap his head around it.

Movement from his peripherals caught his eye. Hank turned his head to see one of the broadcast androids leaving the kitchen. The android looked calm and collected, no signs of distress or anxiousness. He walked calmly and smoothly towards the exit, making his way past the CSI workers, and other police officers. A feeling of dread suddenly swept through him. Something didn't feel right. Connor said he was interrogating the androids, so why would one be leaving the room? Only one? He then heard yelling. He gazed down the hallway leading to the broadcast room. The android was assaulting one of the FBI agents who had attempted to stop him from leaving, the android was wrestling to take the agent's gun from his hands.

Hank's police instincts sprung into action. Pulling his gun from his holster he rushed to the entrance of the broadcast room, using the sidewall as cover. He yelled out to everyone to duck down as he aimed his weapon at the android. Lining up the shot, he was able to land a fatal blow to the operator's head, shutting him down. The android fell to the ground like a stone, blue blood splattered the door behind him and the ground beneath him. Officers and agents alike slowly rose up from their ducking positions, trying to process what just happened. Hank was panting slightly, as he shakily re-holstered his gun. He looked around making sure everyone was okay. His eyes fell on Chris, who was bringing himself up from the ground, clearly shaken, but unharmed. Hank let out a breath, he had prevented a potential massacre. Lord knows what would have happened if he wasn't fast enough, if it wasn't for Conner's advice, he probably wouldn't have had the knowledge to be able lineup the head shot like he did, well on an android at least.

_Wait...Connor. Oh SHIT CONNOR! _

Hank snapped himself out of it, adrenaline still pumping strong through his system, Hank turned tail and raced back to the kitchen. Something had happened, something bad. For that android to do what he did, something had gone down. He slowed down to a power walk as he entered the kitchen, being cautious in case there were more unpleasant surprises. He wished he hadn't thought that, because there was indeed a 'surprise' in store for him, one that would be forever burned into his memory.

"_Haaaaaank…! I need heeeelp…!" _

Hank heard the pained, raspy cries of the android as he entered the room. His attention briefly snapped to the remaining two broadcast androids standing at attention to the side of the room, obviously not deviated, and oblivious to the events that had taken place beforehand. Hank walked around the table to see Connor crawling across the floor on his stomach. Hank's eyes went wide with horror, he raced to Connor's side.

"Connor!" Hanks exclaimed. "Hang on son, hang on, hang on! We're gonna save you, hang on!...here, here…" He fell to his knees, carefully turning Connor on his back so he could support him better. Hank took notice of the knife wound in Connor's hand, as it was covered with blue blood and had a distinctive hole in it. He also took notice of the other hole, in Connor's _chest_. His Thirium regulator had been violently ripped out in the initial assault. He didn't know where said regulator was though, as his full attention had been on Connor the whole time.

"...deviant…." Connor choked out, as Hank supported him in his lap.

_Deviant? That bastard I shot, he did this to Connor? Oh no….._

Hank had a firm hold on his shoulders, trying to keep the android awake. Connor's LED flashed a bright red, signifying a serious problem. He grimaced hard as he looked up at Hank, with pained brown eyes.

"...there was….a…...deviant….." He gasped, clearly in distress.

Hank didn't understand how biocomponents worked. He knew Connor was going to shut down very soon, but he didn't know what to do or how to help his partner. Hank started to get another though, he started having a flashback to that night, the accident. He looked down at Connor but saw...Cole. The blue blood that had blossomed across his white button up shirt seemed to turn red, his body was going limp in his arms, his eyes fluttering a few times before closing completely. Connor let out one last breath, the red light of his LED fading, until it was gone. Connor was gone. Hank yanked himself back to reality, realizing that the android, his partner….his _son_ had officially shut down.

"Connor!" He exclaimed, shaking Connor's shoulders. Even though it would do no good, he felt the need to do so.

"Connor…" Hank said again, much more softly. He brought a hand up from Connor's left shoulder. "Oh no…." he laid said hand across Connor's forehead. His skin felt so cold, the warmth that once radiated from it had gone.

The way Connor 'died', it looked and felt too real. It wasn't stiff or robotic like other android deaths he had seen. It was too human and it killed Hank on the inside. He had been reminded of the worst night of his entire life. He had lost his son all over again. He was aware that Connor would come back, that Cyberlife would deploy another RK800, and Connor's consciousness and memory banks would be transferred to the new unit, but it didn't make Hank feel any better. Internally it would be the same Connor he met, yet it wouldn't be. The whole prospect messed with his head.

He sat there on the floor, cradling Connor's body in his arms. He maneuvered his hand from Connor's forehead and started listlessly combing his fingers through the android's hair. Hank could have sworn he felt tears stinging his eyes, but his mind was too numb to register anything else….

* * *

**~January 10th - 2:25 AM~**

The flashback flew through Hank's liquored mind, the feeling of Connor's cold skin could be felt yet again on his hand, despite nothing being there. It was a horrible event, and as he expected, Connor had showed up to the DPD the next day. The android acted like nothing happened. Hank felt uneasy for sometime after, but when he knew that Connor had retained 90% of his memories, the feeling soon left, and things more or less went back to normal.

Hank leaned back in his chair, starting to feel faint and woozy. He was close to blacking out, like the last time he played Russian Roulette but had passed out before the deed was done. He took pride in the feeling that he would succeed this time. Hank turned his head to read the wall clock. 2:25 am.

_Fuck...I've been wasting time…._

Hank leaned forward, the wooziness only increasing. The corners of his vision began to darken, his hand was shaking uncontrollably. The gun felt like it weighed a ton. He slowly began to lift it, but paused one last time. The house was quiet. Sumo was still outside, again it wasn't freezing so the dog was enjoying his time in the kennel. Connor was still due to return back. There were no calls or messages from the android on Hank's phone.

_Must have been that much work, huh..._

Hank closed his eyes for the final time. He lifted the gun, pointing the barrel at his temple. His body was on the verge of collapsing out of the chair, the booze blackout overtaking him. He didn't realize that the gun was swaying terribly in his hand, as what was left of his motor skills had deteriorated. His finger slightly fumbled to find the trigger, but eventually he had found it.

_Hey Cole, dad's coming to see you...I'll be right there..._

_**BANG.**_


	2. Blue Blood Bonds

**AN:** Wew BOY. This chapter did not wanna be written lol thanks for all your patience though! I don't have a set schedule for when these release so the last one won't come out for a little while, I'm trying though! In the meantime enjoy some Nines and Connor brotherly love! There isn't enough of it in the fandom!

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***Connor Anderson***

**~January 10th, 2039 - 2:32 AM~**

_*tink*_ _*tink*_ _*tink*_ _*tink*_

The RK800 stimmed quietly with his coin, looking out the window of the backseat of the automated taxi cab. He had finally finished filing the last of the paperwork at the DPD. He would have been done a lot sooner, but half the cases that weren't filed electronically had to be filed the old fashion way, per Fowler's request. Connor had no complaints though. Filing the 'old fashioned way' was quite intriguing for him. Files that would have been processed via the computer would have taken mer seconds for Connor, same for Nines. Him and Gavin had left about an hour before Connor, though Nines wanted to stay behind to help his brother, despite Gavin's protests.

The predecessor kindly declined, seeing how his bro's partner looked ready to tear someone a new one, human or android. Nines then left, reminding Connor for the 5th time that if he needed help to just give him a call.

Connor stopped flipping the coin and started rolling it over his knuckles with ease, a small breathy chuckle escaped his mouth. Nines was technically younger, but had shown to be quite protective of his older brother. Nines was a combat unit, and didn't hesitate to initiate confrontation if the situation warranted it. Connor, being the negotiator opted for the calm approach, but he was thankful for Cyberlife equipping him with some combat abilities. When needed, Connor himself could kick some serious tail.

He paused briefly with his coin, making a mental note in his subroutines to remind Nines about getting back on track with their sparring sessions. It's been quite a while with the load of cases they've had to deal with the past month. He missed grappling with Nines. Much like human brothers who enjoy play fighting, Connor relished in it. Not only could he improve his own skills in martial arts but grow even closer to his successor. Cyberlife had designed Nines to be Connor's replacement but never ever did the RK800 see Nines as such, even when he discovered him at the Cyberlife tower. He was his brother, and nothing less.

Connor resumed flipping his coin over his knuckles. The low hum of the taxi car was the only noise that filled the silence. His internal clock read 2:32 AM. The android only hoped that Hank wasn't milling around in a drunken stupor. He had been working with the lieutenant to help curb his alcoholism and suicidal tendencies. Though Hank still dabbled in his six pack of beer, it had been a while since he had cracked open a bottle of hard liquor. Connor saw this as a big step, as Hank had also cut his time in bars way down. Nowadays he would only go to Jimmy's maybe once or twice a month, not counting special occasions or holidays. Hank, as much as he bitched and moaned, seemed to be sticking to whatever program Connor had set for him. He was also keeping track of Hank's medication, keeping a mental notebook of when Hank took his meds and made sure to remind him if he had missed a day, or had purposely skipped out due to his own stubbornness. Regardless, Hank seemed to be doing well, which in turn helped ease Connor's overall concerns and worries.

If only Connor knew what hellish nightmare he was about to step into.

"_**You**_ _**have arrived at your destination, thank you for taking Detroit Taxi services."**_

The autonomous cab smoothly rolled to a stop outside of Hank's house. The side door sliding open to the sidewalk. Connor pocketed his coin, adjusted his tie, stood up and stepped out of the taxi, the doors closing behind him. The cab then drove away, returning to the city on it's preconstructed route. Connor took a moment to take in his surroundings. The ground was covered in a small dusting of snow, somewhat uncommon for the city at this time of the year. The weather anchors had predicted much heavier snowfall, but mother nature seemed to have proven them wrong. Connor didn't mind, as he discovered that he was not too fond of snow in general.

He looked over to the driveway, relieved to see Hank's car was still there. He hadn't gone bar hopping. Connor casually strolled up the walkway to the front door, fishing for the house key in his pocket. From outside the house looked dark, no visible light could be seen from the living room window or Hank's own bedroom window. Connor exhaled, having zero inkling of what had really gone down inside the house, assuming the older man was asleep in bed. He reached the front door, inserting the key into its slot. A small click was heard and Connor pushed the door open, slipping inside and shutting the door behind him. He briefly turned to relock it, but not before hearing the patter of heavy paws on the hardwood floor coming towards him.

Connor shrugged off his RK jacket, hanging it up on the coat rack. He loosened and removed his tie, draping it over his hanging jacket and took a moment to unbutton the top few buttons of his dress shirt before kneeling down to greet Sumo. Connor then noticed the faint light that was coming from the kitchen. He tilted his head a bit, the way he always did when something intrigued him. He still suspected nothing, assuming Hank left it on when Connor got home, so he wouldn't be fumbling around in the dark, not that it was necessary. The android's advanced optical units allowed him to see in the dark just fine, but was told that it was out of human habit. Leaving a light on for someone to come home to was just the human thing to do, as Hank said. Connor didn't protest, as this gesture helped validate his newfound humanity.

Connor stayed in a kneeling position, giving Sumo the much needed pats and scratches that he more than deserved. The dog wagged his tail furiously, panting and whining as Connor scratched him behind the ears.

"Hey Sumo, glad to have me home huh? Has Lieutenant Anderson been behaving?" Connor said cheekily, scratching the sides of Sumo's face. Sumo let out a low woof followed by another whine. Connor again tilted his head slightly, noticing that Sumo's muzzle looked, wet. He let a hand drift over Sumo's fur, it felt wet, and a little sticky. Connor swiped a bit of it onto his index and middle finger, much like how he did when he was analyzing a sample. His breath hitched in his throat and his LED strobed red when he saw the color of this mystery liquid.

It was red. Dark, _bloody_ red.

Connor hastily got back to his feet and switched on the lamp that sat on the side table against the wall. His optical units were not malfunctioning. Parts of Sumo's muzzle were covered with patches of blood. Sumo's front paws were also covered in blood. Connor kneeled down again and started inspecting the dog's body. He activated his scanning program, analyzing the Bernard who sat on his hunches, panting and whining. Sumo himself didn't act hurt or look like he was physically wounded. His behavior was of something different, something that had not happened to him but someone else.

"Sumo! What in rA9's name happened to you?" Connor asked in a harsh whisper. Sumo still sat, panting, whining. The large dog looked antsy, as if he was trying to tell Connor something. Connor knew that dogs could sense things, and were able to lead people along if they knew there was a presence of danger. Sumo got up and turned tail, making his way to the kitchen. Connor fixed his gaze on the floor, and what he saw made his regulator palpate in his abdomen.

Light bloody paw prints dotted the floor, that led straight from the kitchen.

Dread and fear quickly began to rise within himself, his processors kicking into overdrive. His LED cycled to orange, flickering and pulsing.

"Lieutenant?" Connor called out, his voice shaking slightly. No answer. The house itself was dead silent, save for Sumo's panting and huffing.

"H-Hank? You there?"

Nothing.

Connor scrambled to his feet, almost tripping as he dashed to the threshold of the kitchen.

The sight before him made his blue blood freeze.

There lay Hank, on his side the floor, a small pool of blood had formed on the kitchen tile around the right side of his head, the revolver lay only a few feet away from his open hand. The empty bottle of Jack lay on it's side on the kitchen table along with Cole's photo frame, which laid face down.

Connor had a delayed reaction, as if he was suffering a terrible glitch. He couldn't move or think in the moment. The sight of Hank laying there burning itself into his memory banks. The scene was all too familiar. Connor's vision briefly flashed to the night that he went to seek out Hank for the Eden Club case. When he had to break his way through the window to revive Hank. Thankfully he was not successful in doing the deed at the time.

This however was different. Hank clearly wasn't playing Russian Roulette. He had done it. He really did it. His partner, his friend...his _dad_, had killed himself. At least that's what Connor thought.

The android was finally able to bring himself back to reality. The corners of his vision flashed various warning messages. His thirium circulation had increased ten fold. His processors seemingly threatened to overload at that very moment. He thought his pump regulator was gonna burst out of his abdomen. His LED flashing a bright crimson.

**/WARNING! WARNING!/**

**STRESS LEVELS [CRITICAL]: 85% ^^^^**

**[SELF-DESTRUCT RISK: HIGH]**

His optical units flashed warnings and numbers, but he quickly blocked them out. He stumbled forward falling to Hank's side. Connor's breathing was shallow and quick. He felt like he was going to have a panic attack. Shaking uncontrollably, he wrapped his arms around Hank the best he could in his position.

Connor tried to speak, but he couldn't. His voice box seemed to freeze. Every bit of him seemed to be shutting down, or malfunctioning. He almost failed to register the feeling of Hank's body.

His body was still warm.

Connor brought a hand back and placed his index and middle finger to Hank's neck, his skin retracting upon contact, exposing the white exoskeleton underneath.

He felt a pulse. Hank was still alive. Somehow, someway, he was alive.

Connor brough his hand back, his exposed hand sheathed itself back up. Very carefully he grabbed Hank's shoulder and pushed the man till he was on his back. From there he saw the full extent of Hank's head injury. Despite his despondent state Connor managed to activate his scanning software once again, doing a diagnostic on Hank.

What looked to be a moderate laceration, extended from the temple to the side of his head. Connor couldn't see any actual bone or brain matter, he could only conclude that the bullet grazed badly, no thanks to the close proximity. Hank's breathing was shallow and rapid, his heart rate was abnormally high, though the alcohol probably played a big role in that part.

"H-Hank…" Connor finally found his voice. He reached out and touched the side of the lieutenant's head, his fingers combing through blood matted hair. His other hand still gripping Hank's shoulder.

_Why? Why did this happen? Why did you do it? Everything had been going so well! Oh rA9, I should have known this was going to happen. Should have known…_

No, now was not the time for that. It wasn't his fault, it wasn't. There was no way Connor could have predicted this. Being as advanced as he was, this was something no android could ever have any inkling of. Androids like him could analyze almost anything, but they were not mind readers.

Connor briefly straightened his back, ignoring the continued warning messages in his peripherals. His stress levels had skyrocketed in an instant and he was struggling to keep them in check. His LED flickered between red and orange as he made a call to 911.

"_**911 what's your emergency?"**_

"This is Detective Connor Anderson! My partner Lieutenant Hank Anderson is badly hurt, he has a self inflicted gunshot wound to the head. His vitals are weak but he is still alive, I need EMS here at 115 Michigan Drive, stat!"

"_**We have an ambulance dispatched and is on it's way!"**_

Connor gave a quick nod and ended the call, his LED cycled back to red, flickering and blinking. He brought the hand that was on Hank's shoulder to the side of the man's throat, checking his pulse. It was weak, but still there.

Sumo had been laying down on the floor near the kitchen threshold, he made a move to get up but Connor turned his head to the canine.

"Sumo! You stay!" Connor yelled, his voice breaking slightly. Sumo bowed his head in fear and plopped back to the floor. The RK800 felt pangs of guilt tug at his bioheart strings. Never did he ever yell at the poor dog like this, but given the current situation, his processors were much too muddled for him to care at the moment.

He stayed at Hank's side the whole time, his fingers never left the side of Hank's throat. He held them there, clinging on to every heartbeat he felt, as a way to reassure himself that Hank was still alive. This didn't help his stress levels though, which were till hovering around 85%. The last thing he wanted to do was self destruct. His optics trained themselves on the revolver. The fresh gunshot residue could be analyzed on parts of the gun. The same residue had been identified on Hank's right hand. Connor grimaced and closed his eyes, the corners of them suddenly felt wet. A massive lump had formed in his throat.

Just when he was about to break down into tears, his audio processors picked up the distant wailing of the ambulance siren. Connor didn't want to leave Hank's side, but he had to close Sumo in Hank's room to prevent him from getting in the way of the medics. Connor hastily rose from the floor, making his way to the still cowering Bernard.

"I'm sorry Sumo, but you gotta go away for a while…" his voice weary and breathless. He gave Sumo a few gentle pets, assuring him that the dog wasn't in trouble. He led Sumo to Hank's room, closing the door after ushering him inside. Connor could hear whining and scratching but paid no mind to it.

He moved to open the front door, seeing the EMTs already making their way up the walkway.

"He's right through here!" Connor declared, leading them through the door and into the kitchen. One of the medics, an MC500 and her human partner made their way through with the stretcher, Connor quickly stepped aside, letting the medics tend to Hank.

"How long has he been like this?" The MC500 asked, turning her head briefly to look at the distraught android.

"I-I'm not sure…" Connor replied. The stutter in his voice clear as day, though he desperately tried to hide it, but in vein. "I was working late at the precinct and had only just got home."

The human medic then spoke up, asking Connor about any allergies, meds, the usual questions. Connor told them about the antidepressants, and that Hank might currently be suffering from alcohol poisoning, from what he could pick up on his initial diagnosis.

**/WARNING! WARNING!/**

**STRESS LEVELS [CRITICAL]: 90%^**

**[SELF-DESTRUCT RISK: HIGH]**

After Hank had been secured on the stretcher, the EMT's carefully and swiftly wheeled him through the house and out to the ambulance. Connor followed until he stopped himself just outside the front door. He had crossed his arms, hugging himself as if he was cold, but it was the fear and anxiety that was coming to a head inside him. His stress levels were only increasing, and he had no idea where to even start to decrease them.

The MC500 medic had scanned Connor beforehand, taking note of his dangerously high stress levels. She took a moment and walked up to him, her expression soft and full of compassion. She held out her hand, synthskin retracting, offering to interface with Connor. He briefly hesitated before mirroring the movement, gripping each other's forearms.

A gentle flood of emotional pings flowed up Connor's arm and spread throughout his body. Connor's breath hitched, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the sensation. The EMT took the time to send Connor a telepathic message.

**[INCOMING MESSAGE: MC500 - ID# 324-453-956-23]**

**[ACCEPT Y/N?]**

Connor's brow furrowed, nodding slightly to accept the message, his LED blinking a solid bright orange.

**MC500: I assure you detective, everything will be okay. His vitals are stable, we will take good care of him. Your stress levels are very high though, will you be alright? We can provide separate transport for you if need be.**

**RK800: Thank you but no, I will manage. Please take care of him for me. I will be at the hospital in the morning.**

The MC500 received the reply, giving Connor a nod before they released each other's arms. She turned and made her way back to the ambulance, hopping in the back and shutting the door. The vehicle quickly made its way down the road and away from the house, sirens screaming into the cold night.

Connor stood on the front stoop, watching the ambulance as it carried Hank away. He stood for the longest time, watching the fading blue and red LED lights. Soon enough the street was quiet again, as if nothing had ever happened. Connor slowly turned, walking back into the house, the door slid shut with a click.

Connor looked at his arm, feeling the emotional pings that the EMT had sent him, lingering in his body. They were feelings of assurance, confidence, and comfort. Androids were able to send telepathic or interfaced "pings" to one another as simple notifications, like a human wave but virtual. Some androids that were integrated with the programming to console and comfort humans (therapists, nurses, emergency medic units) had gained the ability to do the same with androids post deviancy, via interface. It was quite an amusing discovery. Androids of the such could connect and console each other in ways humans could never do. It had a much deeper impact than simply saying words. To actually feel the emotions course through one's body, from one android to another, the feeling in itself was amazing. Androids in varying relationships can benefit from emotional interfacing, from being supportive to being intimate.

Connor raised his head slightly and stared blankly ahead at the carpet. He took a few uneasy steps forward, still not able to fully process the series of events that had just occurred. Sumo still whined and barked from Hank's bedroom, having heard the commotion and wanted out. Connor still had no plans to let him out, due to the horrific mess that remained in the kitchen. Connor stopped before the threshold, his regulator palpated violently upon seeing the scene before him.

**/WARNING! WARNING!/**

**STRESS LEVELS [CRITICAL]: 89%^^^^^**

**[SELF-DESTRUCT RISK: HIGH]**

Connor had failed to notice that the emotional interface had actually helped lower his stress levels. One of the main reasons why emotional connections have been mighty helpful, but seeing Hank's blood, the gun, the whole mess had nullified those efforts. He quickly turned away, settling down on the couch with the swell of panic and anxiety rising in him.

Deviation has been a bit of a roller coaster for Connor. Unlike Nines, Connor took longer to catch on to emotions and handle them accordingly. Anxiety and fear were such emotions that Connor distasted greatly and did not like dealing with. He has learned several coping mechanisms to help curb the anxiety and panic, but in this situation Connor knew these wouldn't work in any way.

**/WARNING! WARNING!/**

**BIOCOMPONENT #3246c**

**[THIRIUM CIRCULATION ABOVE OPTIMAL OUTPUT]**

**STRESS LEVELS [CRITICAL]: 93%^^^**

**[SELF-DESTRUCT RISK: HIGH]**

The threatening messages flashed in Connor's vision, not helping with the swelling anxiety. He hugged himself, trying to control his breathing. He felt himself getting hot, realizing that his temperature regulating systems were possibly going on the fritz.

_He'll be okay. He'll be okay. He'll be okay. Oh rA9 please let him be okay...I can't lose him. I can't lose him._

Connor mentally murmured this mantra over and over, still struggling to control his breathe. The warning messages still popped up on his HUD. His regulator palpitations getting worse and worse. He brought his hands up, running them through his hair, the static, tingling feeling weaving its way throughout his limbs. He didn't want to self destruct. This was the LAST thing he needed right now.

**/WARNING! WARNING!/**

**STRESS LEVELS [CRITICAL]: 96%^^^^**

**[SELF-DESTRUCT RISK: HIGH] **

He needed help. He needed it badly. He needed somebody with him. Now.

He needed Nines.

His LED, which had been flashing a horrid scarlet, blipped between orange and red as he struggled to make the call.

**[OUTGOING CALL: RK900 ID# 945-523-912-87]**

Nines thankfully picked up after two rings.

**[CONNECTION ESTABLISHED]**

**Nines: Hello? Connor? **

**Connor: N-Nines, thank rA9 you picked up!**

**Nines: Yeah sure, but it's the middle of the night. What's going on?**

Connor struggled to form words, the stress level warning flashed threateningly in his peripherals.

**/WARNING! WARNING!/**

**STRESS LEVELS [CRITICAL]: 97%^**

**[SELF-DESTRUCT RISK: HIGH]**

**Nines: Con? Are you okay? What's happened?**

**Connor: Hank….he-he…..I can't….**

**Nines: Lieutenant Anderson? What is it? What's going on?**

**Connor: I-I need…..please come. I need you….stress levels…..critical….**

**/WARNING! WARNING!/**

**STRESS LEVELS [CRITICAL]: 98%^**

**[SELF-DESTRUCT RISK: HIGH]**

**Nines: Okay, I'm coming right over. Just hang on okay?**

**Connor: Please….hurry….**

Connor disconnected the call prematurely. His processors were being overclocked, he felt so hot. He was shaking uncontrollably.

**/WARNING! WARNING!/**

**STRESS LEVELS…**

_No…._

**CRITICAL…**

_I don't wanna die…_

…**.**

_Hank needs me...I don't wanna die…_

**...100%...**

_Don't wanna die, don't wanna die, don't wanna die…._

Connor grabbed his head, fingers curling and pulling at his disheveled hair, the number 100 could be seen in front of him, the CyberLife Font obscured his vision in big bold red letters. Blood red. Taunting him. Almost urging him.

_No, no, no NO! _

**/SYSTEM DIAGNOSTIC ENGAGED/**

**/-/ERROR**

**/CPU OVERCLOCKED/**

**BIOCOMPONENT #3246c**

**[THIRIUM CIRCULATION ABOVE OPTIMAL OUTPUT]**

**/BIOCOMPONENT #3246c OVERCLOCKED/**

**/-/ERROR**

**BIOCOMPONENT #4230b [COMPROMISED]**

Connor froze up once more, stunned and confused at the message. #4230b? That was his Thirium reserves. Raw Thirium that hadn't been processed or run through the synthetic veins was preserved in the synthetic organ. Since Androids were capable of consuming Thirium orally, the biocomponent served as a reservoir of sorts. Able to supplement androids with Thirium when moderate physical trauma had been sustained. Serving as a sort of internal IV bag of blue blood. The organ itself resembled the human stomach.

**/WARNING! WARNING!/**

**BIOCOMPONENT #4230b [COMPROMISED]**

**DAMAGE TO VITAL SYSTEM IMMINENT **

**[BEGINNING EMERGENCY PURGE]**

Connor raised his head up as he started to feel a different sensation. Though androids couldn't feel human pain or nausea, the feeling was more or less unpleasant. Connor covered his mouth, feeling his breath hitch in his throat. He felt the sickening flow of a lukewarm liquid rising in his throat.

Realization quickly set in. Connor shot up from the couch and dashed to the bathroom. He barely made it to the toilet before retching violently, as raw Thirium spilled out of his mouth and splashed into the porcelain bowl. His whole body shuddered, recoiling with every heave.

After a few moments, Connor finally felt his body calming down. He leaned back slowly, trying to spit out any blue blood that was caught in his mouth and on his tongue. He brought his hand up to wipe his mouth. Now he knew how Hank felt while recovering from a hangover. It felt awful.

He looked down at the mess he had created. The inside of the toilet bowl was splashed bright semi-luminous blue. Parts of the seat were also splashed with blood. He still managed to get it mostly in the bowl, knowing that raw Thirium doesn't evaporate after a few hours. He didn't want another terrible mess to deal with. Connor shakily got to his feet, making his way to the tub and sat on the rim. He hung his head, hands slumped on his knees. He took a moment to run a diagnostic.

**/SYSTEM DIAGNOSTIC/**

**BIOCOMPONENT #3246c - OK**

**[THIRIUM CIRCULATION OPTIMAL]**

**BIOCOMPONENT #4230b - OK**

**[VITAL SYSTEM DAMAGE PREVENTED]**

**NO DAMAGE DETECTED**

**/WARNING!/**

**[THIRIUM RESERVE LEVELS DOWN TO 32%]**

**THIRIUM INTAKE RECOMMENDED **

**/-/-/-/**

**STRESS LEVELS [MODERATE]: 74%**

**[SELF-DESTRUCT RISK: MEDIUM]**

Connor inhaled, raising his head up slowly, his LED cycling at a steady orange. Somehow this episode had helped lower his stress levels, not by much though. Connor decided to stay in the bathroom and away from the horror in the kitchen, knowing that if he dared to look back in there it would only make his levels spike right back up again. He sat on the rim of the tub, praying for Nines to arrive.

Suddenly, Connor's audio processors picked up the low hum of a vehicle outside. Connor immediately shot up and made his way to the hallway. He yanked the door open to see Nines had just exited the auto taxi.

"Nines! You're here!" Connor exclaimed. Nines offered a small smile, but it quickly vanished when he started picking up emotional pings. Connor's LED blinked rapidly between red and orange, he had started sending Nines emotional pings, whether he was doing it on purpose or unintentionally, Nines couldn't tell. The emotions he had picked up alarmed him greatly.

**Stress**

**Anxiety**

**Fear**

**Anger**

**Sadness**

Nines picked up each and every blip Connor sent him. Connor stepped back through the door to let his brother in. Nines stepped over the threshold, closing the door behind him. A few moments went by, the atmosphere in the house was tense. Nines turned to his predecessor, still feeling the mental pings.

"Connor? You wanna tell me what's going on? That call you made, what happened?" He asked. He winced slightly as he picked up another emotional ping, this one filled with anxiety.

Connor crossed his arms, hugging his body as if he was cold. His LED cycled to red. Nines saw this and tilted his head slightly. A mannerism he picked up from Connor. He spoke up again.

"Connor, please talk to me, what are-"

Nines was cut off as Connor suddenly ran forward, slamming into Nines. He wrapped his arms around his brother, hugging him as if his life depended on it. Nines was taken off guard, taking a step back. He felt Connor digging his nails into his hoodie, tugging at the fabric.

Nines returned the hug, feeling the worry rise in his gut. He had never seen Connor in this state before. What had happened with Hank? He decided to push further.

"Con, please…." He whispered, as Connor had buried his face into his shoulder. "What happened with Hank?" He felt Connor trembling in his arms, small muffled sobs could be heard. Nines' regulator palpated. This wasn't like Connor, at all.

Conner brought a shaky hand back, the synthskin retracting. He placed it on Nines' forearm. Nines accepted the interface, closing his eyes, his LED flickering orange.

Nines grimaced and resisted the urge to flinch as he accessed Connor's memory banks. He saw the events unfold from Connor's point of view. From him coming home, seeing the blood on Sumo, running to the kitchen and seeing the nightmare before him. Hank lying on the floor, the blood...blood everywhere. Nines' vision crackled a bit as things shifted and changed. The last thing he saw was Connor vomiting into the toilet, as his stress levels had reached 100%.

Connor released his grip from Nines' forearm, wrapping his arm around Nines' back again. Nines tightened the embrace, bringing Connor as close to him as possible. One hand had traveled up the base of Connor's hairline, a gentle hand cradled the back of his head.

"Oh, rA9. Connor I'm sorry..." Nines muttered, as he felt Connor tremble and cry softly into his shoulder. Even though it felt inappropriate, Nines took a moment to scan Connor, and did his own diagnostic.

**/SCANNING…./**

**[RK800 - CONNOR - ID# ****313 248 317 - 52] **

**STRESS LEVELS [CRITICAL]: 88%**

**[SELF-DESTRUCT RISK: HIGH]**

**/ANALYZING.../**

**BIOCOMPONENT #3246c - OK**

**[THIRIUM CIRCULATION SLIGHTLY ELEVATED]**

**BIOCOMPONENT #4230b - OK**

**[THIRIUM RESERVE LEVELS DOWN TO 32%]**

**THIRIUM INTAKE RECOMMENDED**

Nines ended his scan, and gently pulled back, gripping Connor by the shoulders. Connor refused to look at his brother, feeling ashamed and embarrassed. He hated looking vulnerable like this. It felt so pathetic, so pitiful. Connor was all about formality, and maintaining some form of professionalism. Reason why he sometimes struggles to not address Hank as lieutenant Anderson, or Gavin as detective Reed, or even Tina as officer Chen. For Connor it was a sense of security, something that was part of his personality. He felt Nines' grip on his shoulders tighten slightly.

"Con, brother look at me, please." He said. His voice low and graced with a rare gentleness. Connor looked up, his face held a pained expression and was stained with fresh tears, he took in long stuttering breaths to calm himself. Since interfacing with Nines his stress levels had spiked again.

"I...I can't lose h-him…" He stuttered, his voice barely a whisper. Nines inhaled sharply through his nose, a small lump had formed in his throat. Seeing Connor in this bad state, killed him inside. Connor had anxiety, and had suffered minor attacks in the past, but only a few this bad. Nines remembered the coping mechanisms that Connor was taught, as well as being taught himself on how to calm his predecessor down. Being an android, Nines had the advantage of emotional interfacing.

"Is he…?" Nines couldn't finish the sentence, but Connor shook his head.

"No, the medics...said that it only looked worse than it really was." He drew in another breath. "The bullet had grazed his temple badly though. He tried...he...tried…"

**/WARNING!WARNING!/**

**STRESS LEVELS [CRITICAL]: 93%^^^**

**[SELF-DESTRUCT RISK: HIGH]**

Connor's breathing began to quicken again. The warning flashing within his optics.

"N-No...my stress...I…" Connor could barely form words. Tears began to fall from his eyes, he was shaking uncontrollably. Nines had done a rescan and could see the heightened levels. He had to do something.

"Let's go to the bedroom Con, we need to calm you down." Nines said, his own words dripping with anxious conviction. He placed a hand on Connor's back to guide him. Connor hesitated, as his room was past the kitchen, and he didn't want to have to look at the mess. Nines had placed himself on Connor's left side, blocking his view as they walked past.

Sumo had fallen asleep in Hank's bedroom, but upon hearing the commotion he jumped up and resumed pawing at the door and whining. Connor looked over his shoulder briefly, feeling bad for the poor dog. He didn't understand what was happening, that his owner had just tried to take his own life. He was definitely gonna have to take care of him later, but he couldn't right now.

Connor stepped into the small room, which used to be Hank's old study. Because the man barely use it, he had no issue converting it into a bedroom for Connor. Connor himself found it much more comfortable sleeping in a horizontal position rather than standing or sitting. Well, not sleeping but going into stasis, just like a computer going into sleep mode, processor and biocomponent activity is slowed, reserving energy and taking strain off of the CPU. An android's Thirium regulator even decreases it's flow, much like how a human's heart rate slows when they sleep.

Nines stood just inside the door frame as Connor made his way to the bed, sitting down on the side of the mattress. He hung his head, his LED lighting up the darkened room. Orange and red lightened up the walls. Nines stepped forward, getting his predecessor's attention.

"Why don't you change, and try to get some rest for now, I'm gonna go clean up the….stuff. Alright? Just try to calm down. Your stress levels are elevated again…"

Sad brown puppy eyes locked with grey-blue ones. Connor nodded, his LED cycling to a solid orange. Just as Nines was about to turn, Connor reached out and grabbed his wrist.

"Nines...can you get me my coin please? I know it will...help me out quite a bit." He said quietly. Nines nodded in return. Connor let go, letting Nines step out of the room and leaving the door open a crack.

Nines strode down the hall, past the threshold of the kitchen to the front door where Connor's RK jacket hung on the rack. Rifling through one of the pockets, Nines found the coin, pocketting it himself as he made his way back to Connor's room. He entered the bedroom, seeing Connor had just changed into a basic, loose fitting t-shirt. Nines reached into his jean pocket and took out the quarter.

"Here ya go Con." Nines held it out to him. Connor's face slightly lit up, his LED blipping blue as he took it.

"Ah, thank you Nines. This will help." He took his seat on the bed as he immediately started stimming with it. He rolled it over his knuckles, flicked it between his hands with his thumbs, and started spinning it on his fingertips. Nines relished in this moment, watching Connor do his coin tricks was always entertaining. While Nines could do his own amazing tricks with his butterfly knife, he loved watching Connor stim with his quarter. It helped his older brother with recalibrating, concentrating on a certain task, or in these situations, helping to calm his nerves. Nines averted his gaze, turning to leave again.

"You won't leave, will you?" Connor's concerned voice reached his audio processors. Without turning around, Nines halted just outside the bedroom door.

"No Con. Don't worry. I will stay here with you tonight, I'm just gonna go clean things up. Plus a fact poor Sumo needs to be attended to as well. Don't worry about him. Just rest, and I'll be back as soon as I'm done." Nines turned his head, giving his brother a side glance, his LED shone bright blue. "Don't worry about Gavin either. If you're okay with it, I'll explain the situation, and he won't raise a stink."

Connor nodded, flicking his coin from palm to palm in an almost rhythmic pattern. Nines turned his head again, closing the bedroom door behind him. Nines let out a sigh as he rolled up the sleeves of his hoodie. He made his way back to the kitchen, and took a moment to examine the scene. The small blood pool had since coagulated on the tiled floor. The table was stained with small amounts of spilled liquor, and the gun...the revolver that had almost done the deed, lay in the same position Connor found it in when he came home. Nines narrowed his eyes, doing some calculations and determining the best way to clean up this horror scene.

Sumo's loud whines caught his attention, Nines knew he had to deal with the big lumbering bernard first. He walked from the kitchen to the bathroom, taking note of the raw Thirium that still sat in the toilet bowl. He flushed it, relieved to see the chemical go down fairly easy. He took the toilet brush and some paper towels, scraping and washing off the left over residue on the seat and the inside of the bowl. After that, Nines made his way to the tub, turning on the water and getting it up to a comfortable temperature for bathing. Seeing the blood on Sumo through Connor's memories sent a shiver down his spine, a truly disturbing image. He wanted to make sure Sumo looked spick and span after this washing. After letting the water reach a certain depth, Nines turned it off, locating the dog shampoo that sat on one of the built in shelves in the shower wall.

He finally exited the bathroom and stepped up to the door to Hank's bedroom. Gripping the handle, Nines quietly calling Sumo's name so the dog would recognize his voice. Nines slowly opened the door, making sure to catch the dog's collar to prevent him from racing out. Sumo wagged his tail upon seeing Nines, happy to finally be getting attention again. Sumo still had some of Hank's blood on his muzzle and paws, which had since dried on, making some of his fur stiff and crusty.

Leading the bernard to the bathroom with ease, he shut the door behind him, letting go of Sumo's collar. Luckily, Sumo didn't mind the water at all, and quite enjoyed baths. Nines scrubbed Sumo down, Making sure to get every smear of blood off of Sumo's muzzle and paws, frequently doing scans to detect any specks of blood he may have missed. Afterwards, Nines dried Sumo off the best he could. This was probably the best washing Sumo had ever gotten, and the brilliant shine of his clean coat showed.

Because Sumo was still damp, Nines had to close him into the bathroom for the night, but not before retrieving a dog treat for him. The dog whined again, being left behind a closed door, which tugged at Nines' heart a bit. Being around Connor had helped strengthen his liking for dogs, even though Gavin was a cat person, having two of his own at their apartment.

Nines stopped at the threshold of the kitchen, taking one last moment to observe the scene. He couldn't believe that Hank did this. Connor had kept him up to date on Hank's progress, from his drinking issues to his suicidal tendencies. Nines was confident he was doing well, and was proud of Connor for working so hard. He worked so, so hard. This was a huge setback, one that will most likely reverse all the progress that both Connor and Hank had made. Nines felt a small swell of anger and resentment within him. Seeing Connor so hurt, so upset, so broken...it activated his protective instincts. He wanted nothing more than to be by Connor's side, to hold him and assure him, to tell him everything would be okay. It was a super rare side of Nines that only Connor has ever seen. Nines was always a stoic person, more than Connor, even after deviancy. He retained much of his originally programmed mannerisms.

Taking the cleaning supplies he had gathered, Nines got to work on the floor, making sure not to get any blood on his hands or clothes. Nines worked diligently, scrubbing at every nook and cranny. He scrubbed fervently at the paw prints that dotted the tile and hardwood, thankful that none of it had gotten on the carpet. There would be zero traces of this horrific event ever happening. Nothing will be left behind.

The floor was now clean, Nines shifted his attention to the revolver. He picked it up, flipping open the chamber to reveal the single spend bullet casing. Nines grimaced as he took the case out and tossed it into the wastebasket. He flipped the chamber closed, looking the gun over again before he placed it up on the counter. He made a note in his subroutines to lock up the gun later.

Nines flawlessly cleaned the table off, scrubbing the surface clean of the spilled alcohol. He picked up the empty Jack Daniel bottle, tossing it into the recycle bin. After straightening a few more things up, Nines stepped back and did another scan. The kitchen was as clean as it's ever been. It's like nothing ever happened. Connor will be happy.

Nines flinched suddenly, bringing a hand up to the side of his temple, his LED flashed bright red for a few seconds. An emotional ping wracked his processors. A strong one at that. Connor had sent one, whether it was intentional or not, he wasn't sure. It was a big swell of anxiety and loneliness. It had been a while since he left, and was sure Connor was concerned. Nines turned away from the gun and exited the kitchen, turning off all the lights on his way to Connor's bedroom.

Nines gently knocked on the door as he opened it. He slipped in and shut the door behind him. Connor was lying in bed, tucked under the covers, in a semi fetal position on his side. His face half buried in the pillow. His eyes were closed, but his LED was cycling between orange and red. Nines flinched again as he got another emotional ping. Pure anxiety. Nines approached the bed, placing a hand on Connor's shoulder.

"Hey brother, I'm back. I'm sorry I took so long."

Connor opened his eyes, turning his head slightly to look up at Nines. His LED blipped to blue, a small yet warm smile shown on his face. He reached out from under the covers, taking a firm hold of Nines' wrist. He didn't speak at all, but Nines knew what he wanted. He slipped off his shoes and made his way to the other side of the bed, climbing under the covers and settling down next to Connor. Almost immediately Connor rolled over, wrapping one arm around Nines' waist, hugging him as best he could. Nines returned the favor, snaking one arm under Connor around his waist, his other arm wrapped around his upper back, resting his hand at the nape of Connor's neck. Connor buried his face into Nines' chest with his successor resting his chin in his disheveled hair.

Connor's stress levels had elevated again, so Nines decided to do another emotional interface. He positioned his open palm at the base of Connor's hairline, the synthskin on his hand retracted. Connor accepted the interface, the skin where Nines' hand was placed on also retracted, a small section of the white skeleton now exposed. The underside of Nines' palm seemed to glow as they connected, his LED processed and flashed orange as he sent Connor strong emotional pings. Assurance, relief, support, and love. Connor felt them radiate throughout his body, and it felt absolutely wonderful. He snuggled in closer to his brother, tightening his grip on the fabric of Nines' hoodie.

Nines smiled warmly as he gradually reduced the strength of the pings. Through the connection Nines could feel Connor slowly slipping into stasis, his stress levels decreasing. Soon enough, Connor had fully entered stasis, the tight hug he held had weakened somewhat, his simulated breathing was deep and even. Though it was blocked from view, his LED was slowly and rhythmically pulsing orange, fading in and out, like a power button on a computer in sleep mode. Nines ended the interface, bringing his hand up and combing his fingers through Connor's soft hair. He drew back, planting a soft kiss on his forehead before settling his chin back into his hair. Nines sighed and closed his eyes, letting himself slowly slip into stasis as well.

This is not how he thought his night would turn out, and he'll be damned if he lets Gavin try to complain about leaving in the dead of the night. He had just cleaned up a potential suicide scene, and he could only pray to rA9 that Hank will pull through. The lieutenant had been through some shit before, so Nines held onto the confidence that he will be alright. Well, hoped he would.

Though Connor greatly condemned it, Nines made one last mental note. Give Hank a piece of his mind when he recovers. For doing this to Connor. For causing a mental breakdown, for causing well, all of this. Nines knew it wasn't necessarily right, blaming a suicidal person for causing other one pain, despite their own sufferings, but his protective instincts were now in full force, and his judgment was more or less a little clouded.

Tomorrow they will visit Hank at the hospital, granted he survives the night. As stasis fully took over Nines, as both brothers slept soundly in each other's arms. Sumo had made the bath mat his temporary dog bed in the bathroom. The house was quiet once again, as snow had started to fall in the neighborhood, assuring the residents of the streets and the city of a decent snow covering when the sun rises at the start of a new day.


End file.
